


Under the Bed

by rainbowtaurus



Series: Reylo Halloween Short Stories [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But I like Halloween, But I still ship it, But not explicitly religious, Creepy Dolls, Creepy creatures, F/M, Ficlet, Hauntings, Holy Water, No Animals Harmed, No Children Harmed, No Pregnancy, Not Beta Read, Possession, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Undertones, Rey and Ben are 18, Rey centric, Rey has a rifle, Rey's mom hates Halloween, Spooky, Undead, but no gore or blood, calls it the Devil's holiday, horror-lite, not blatant reylo, references to Grandpa Palpatine, reylo halloween ficlets, short scary story, so take that Rey's mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowtaurus/pseuds/rainbowtaurus
Summary: Rey keeps seeing a note written in her diary, telling her to look Under the Bed.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Reylo Halloween Short Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934605
Comments: 18
Kudos: 42
Collections: Spooky Gems





	Under the Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all :) This collection is where I am posting my Halloween ficlets and drabbles. They are only posted when complete and will have ratings from T-E. 
> 
> I write ficlets and drabbles to warm-up before writing one of my long, on-going fics (rest assured this isn't taking time away from BTAM, Clipped, or Rey's Panties. Somehow writing begets more writing lmao). Usually, these sit in my google docs but I love spooky season, so here we go. They're short and nothing too fancy. Just a little something to read in the same way you'd pop a small piece of chocolate in your mouth. thanks for reading :)
> 
> ________________

There it was again. The strange message in her diary.

_**Under the Bed.** _

In the same black ink and elegant penmanship, written in a hand so clearly not her own. Rey rips out the page and crumples it into an angry ball. She prepares to chuck it into the bin when her arm freezes mid-air. There is something different about the note this time. 

She gazes out of her bedroom window as the last of the sun’s orange rays spill over the treetops. The room is growing dark, and she has never looked under her bed in the dark before. Then again, she never received the message right before nightfall. 

Rey hesitates.

She wishes Ben was around. In the daylight they had checked under every bed and found nothing unusual. Just dust bunnies and lost scrunchies. There is nothing to be afraid of, right? She doesn’t need Ben to be brave.

Rey sits very still, letting darkness fill the room. The sounds of her mother clanging in the kitchen below fade away. All she hears is her own heavy, uneven breathing and the groan of the old-oakwood floor.

Nothing is under the bed. _Nothing_.

The gooseflesh on her arms and bristling hair on the back of her neck warns otherwise. 

With a sharp intake of breath, Rey lies on her stomach and peeks under the bed frame. For a split second she imagines something flitting across the floor - a spider? Her stomach twists into a ball of nerves as she forces her arm under the bed, groping into the darkness.

“This is so stupid,” she mumbles, her fingers grazing over crumbs and lint. She reaches into her back pocket and slips out her cell phone and taps the flashlight button. She shines it under the bed, her eyes tracking the light as she gradually moves the flashlight from left to right. Until - 

_Until_ she is looking into a pair of sunken eyes.

_Eyes._

“Oh my god,” acid burns her throat and she violently shakes. Nausea washes over her as her mind grapples with the impossible.

_Eyes._

Wide, lidless eyes. Unblinking and embedded in a face that seems to be - there is no other word for it - _rotting._ All bone and stringy muscle, it’s mouth curved into an unnatural grin. Rotting strands of hair hang limp around its head. 

In her shock, Rey drops the phone and snaps back against the wall. The room seems to close in, the air stuffy and suffocating. How long has it been there? Does it watch her sleep at night? Oh god, she can't dwell on that line of thought.

Rey is close to hyperventilating, her throat dry and closed up. She needs to _scream_. Needs to bolt from the room, needs to _run._ If only she could reach across the space between her bed and the nightstand to turn on the light -

But she can’t.

The _thing_ makes scratching noise - agonizingly slow - from under her bed. Rey briefly closes her eyes and stands atop the mattress, adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

“Alright you thing,” she snarls, scared out of her mind. “Face me! Come out and face me!”

A door slams against the wall and Rey lets out a blood-curdling scream. Her mother’s expression is puzzled and slightly irritated.

“For goodness’ sakes Rey. I’ve been calling you for dinner. What are you doing, sitting here in the dark?”

“M-m-mom,” she croaks, “Under the bed. Get -”

Get what? How do you kill the undead? 

To Rey’s horror, her mother bends over and reaches under the bed.

“Is this some kind of joke, Rey?” She holds up the horrid thing. “Why are you hiding Halloween decorations in your room? You know we don't celebrate the Devil's day.”

The thing looks like a doll, stiff and unmoving, embellished with gory details. The grin is just as wide, just as creepy, and her mother is _holding it._

It’s not a Halloween decoration. Even if her mother approved of Halloween, it's not like they get trick-or-treaters. Not way out here.

Summoning her wits, Rey snatches the doll from her mother’s hands. A chill runs up her spine. Something isn’t right about this thing. _The eyes._ They’ve shifted sideways, looking at Rey.

“Rey!” Her mother shouts as Rey stomps past her and down the steps, “Young lady, you explain all this nonsense right now!”

“Call the Skywalkers, mom!”

"The Skywalkers?"

"They'll know what _to do_!" 

Rey shouts as she marches into the living room. Flames roar in the fireplace. A massive cross is mounted on the wall above, and Rey tightens her grip on the _thing._

“You’re never coming back,” she hisses, throttling its neck. “You’re dead, and you’ll damn-well stay dead.” Hysteria clings to her voice as she tosses it into the fire. Rey grabs the iron poker and spears the thing through the eye-sockets, one at a time. Then through the head and mouth. She prods and pokes it until it is nothing but ash.

Her mother rolls her eyes, says something about teenage hormones and being dramatic. 

Rey plans on asking Ben’s uncle Luke to lay the remains to rest. To give it a proper burial. Luke isn’t religious like her family. He believes in _hippie stuff_ , as her mother would put it. Old teachings passed down through his family for generations. Maybe that’s what this thing needs. A _hippie_ burial.

After a dinner of bland chicken and canned peas, Rey stays awake. She sits on the couch holding her grandfather Palpatine's ancient rifle (not that she knows how to shoot) and a plastic jar of holy water purchased from the Church gift shop. She sips crappy cold coffee and jiggles her legs, nervous.

Every innocuous noise causes her to jump, but the night is uneventful. When the ashes have cooled Rey pulls on a thick pair of gloves. Heart thudding, she scoops the remains into a plastic bag and ties it off. 

A familiar, unwanted chill tingles her spine. Upstairs something heavy hits the floor.

“Mom?” 

The steps creak with soft footsteps, and Rey holds her breath. She drops the bag and picks up the rifle.

“Mom?” Her voice shakes, “That you?” 

No answer. Just footsteps.

“Right then.” Rey shakes as she picks up the bag. She’s not taking any chances. It’s still dark outside when she escapes into the fields, sprinting towards Skywalker’s home. Ribbons of grass cut into her legs as she barrels towards the red barn converted into a house. A single light is on upstairs. Someone is awake.

Tears of relief and pain spring to Rey’s eyes. She’s going to throw up from the effort it takes to force her body to keep moving, but she never stops running. Her leg cramps but the building is close, so close...just a little bit farther...

“REY!” 

A second light turns on in the house. The voice belongs to Ben.

Rey begins to weep. 

“Hey!” Ben waves as she hurls into him like a rocket, “Luke said he expected to see you. Didn’t think it would be at 5am.” He huffs a short laugh and runs a hand through his hair. He’s wearing soft plaid flannel pajamas, but she can't waste precious time thinking about dumb stuff like _that._

“Luke needs to get rid of this,” Rey pants, bending over from exhaustion. She presents the bag with an outstretched arm.

Ben takes it and before Rey can stop him, he opens the bag. His brow creases.

“Rey,” he says, “The bag is empty. There’s a huge hole in the bottom of it.”

_Empty. Impossible._

Rey glances over her shoulder and into the acres of farmland illuminated by early morning light. A breeze blows through the field, but there is an unnatural rhythm in the way the grass moves. A pattern.

Her brain clicks in realization.

“We need to get inside, Ben. _Now_.” Rey pushes him backward, over the threshold, and locks the door shut. She runs around the perimeter of the room, locking every window and drawing the curtains. 

“Remember the strange notes in my diary?”

“I do.”

“Well it got worse. A lot worse. I found -”

A new voice interjects, and Rey tilts her head back to look up towards the loft. Luke.

“Here,” he drops a tiny satchel into her hands. “Sprinkle some of it in the field, and save the rest for your mother.”

_Her mother._

Rey’s mouth opens and shuts like a fish gulping for water. She has too many questions and not enough time.

“Stay back, Ben.” She holds out a hand, not wanting him to get hurt. Before fear can freeze her bones, she unlatches the door and runs outside. A flash of movement in the tall grass catches her eye, zigzagging closer and closer. Harsh wheezing noises grow louder.

Trembling, she unties the satchel and is overcome by the aroma of rosemary and thyme. Keeping her eyes glued to the grass, she dumps it in her open palm, and ah - there is salt in the mixture as well.

Drawing her arm back, Rey slings some of the herbs into the field.

A low growl answers.

“Come on then!” She yells, terrified and dripping in sweat, “Come out and show yourself!”

A blur rushes towards her at the same time she throws the rest of the herbs. Rey prepares to feel the impact of a body, of cold claws scraping her skin or teeth sinking into her flesh but - 

Nothing hits her. 

The figure shrinks back and collapses on the ground.

“Rey?”

Her mother is on the ground. Confused and covered in dirt.

“Honey, how did I get here? Why are you here? And what is all this?” She brushes rosemary and thyme off her chest, picks salt from her hair. “I had the oddest dream - a nightmare - and _how_ did I end up in the Skywalker’s field?”

Rey reaches for her mother’s hand. Her skin is warm, her touch familiar and comforting.

“This way, mom,” Rey guides her to the house, “Ben and Luke can make breakfast and I’ll tell you everything.”

She knows from past experience that Ben makes the best buttermilk pancakes, smothered in butter and Luke's homemade syrup. Rey almost breaks into laughter at the thought of enjoying food after, well, she doesn’t know _what_ just happened.

Was it all in her head? What if mom was just sleep walking? Maybe the doll was a well-worn toy from her grandparents era.

Still. Ben said Luke _expected_ her arrival. 

Rey doesn't want to get too comfortable. She makes a mental note to ask Luke about the history of her grandfather's old house. The Palpatines and Skywalkers lived side by side for decades. 

As for her diaries, Rey plans on burning them all. 


End file.
